


Countries and Kids

by Kuramichan



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cute, Explicit Language, F/M, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-03-27 11:45:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13880190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuramichan/pseuds/Kuramichan
Summary: Instances in which various couples come face to face with... children. A compilation of short scenes to see how each nation reacts. I have a small list of ships, but I'll welcome any suggestions for ships you'd like to read about!





	1. PruCan

Two countries made their way down the busy sidewalk on a particularly pleasant afternoon. The day had been nice, but both were ready to retire after running around since 7 that morning; however, a small, confused-looking figure caught their attention.

“G-gil, I think that child is lost!” Canada pointed out quietly and pulled on Prussia’s sleeve to urge him forward. The kind nation approached and slowly bent down to meet the little one with a sweet smile. The louder of the two stood behind him, hands in pockets. Not that he would admit it out loud, the German did not handle human children very well. 

“Do you know where your parents are?” The Canadian prompted lightly, head tipping to the side. The child’s head shook, brown eyes tearing up. “Well, we can help you find them, okay?” The blond turned to glance over his shoulder at his distanced partner. Prussia nervously stepped closer so that he wouldn’t seem weird.

“Yeah kid, I’m awesome after all, so this kind of thing is easy.” His harsh and loud voice held all the usual arrogance. His blazing red eyes finally met the small boy’s dark brown one and immediately tears began to fall. Prussia’s shit-eating grin dropped, wide hues flickering rapidly between the child and Canada, who seemed almost amused. Then the small one cried noisily.

“Aww, you frightened the poor thing. Perhaps red eyes aren’t a normal thing to see.” He attempted to comfort the child while Prussia had both hands gripping his snowy hair, bouncing in a panicked manner. 

“Oh my God, oh my God Birdie its crying what do we do-“ The crying turned into screaming. “-The parents are gonna come back and be super pissed at me do you think if I throw myself out into traffic it’ll stop-“

“Gil, calm down and think rationally. And he’s a child, not an ‘it’. Let’s just find an authority of some sort.” The calmer man swiveled his head from side to side until he spotted an officer down the sidewalk. Gently, he held out his hand to grasp the child’s, who accepted without hesitation and they walked. 

Prussia followed grumpily behind and focused so closely on the pair in front, he failed to notice a pole just to the right of him, which his shoulder roughly slammed into. The force spun him around as he let out a silly yelp and clung to the pole to prevent falling on his face. Both Canada and the child had turned to see it, giggling before anyone moved to see if he was okay. The German would’ve been angry if he hadn’t caught sight of the kid’s smile. Well, that was better than making the little dude cry, he supposed.

They continued through the crowd and reached the officer, who was occupied by a crying woman. Upon approaching, the boy tugged out of Canada’s hand and raced towards the woman, who noticed and grabbed the child up quickly in her arms, frantically cooing. Canada glanced over to the man beside him with a fond smile, noticing the German watching their reunion. He brushed his fingers with Prussia’s and laced them together, jerking the older one out of his trance. 

“See? Kids aren’t so bad, are they?” Prussia rolled his eyes at this statement, but the corners of his mouth curled up into a familiar grin.

“Maybe not.”


	2. SuFin

Finland moved around the world meeting room to speak with fellow nations, Sweden quietly following behind. The Finn never questioned it anymore, often times glad to have the company. 

Suddenly, he found himself pushed back against Sweden’s chest from the impact of someone not watching where they were going. Embarrassed at Sweden’s quick reaction of grabbing the Finn’s shoulders to steady him, Finland blinked and looked down at a young boy with blond hair and wearing some kind of sailor suit. The child’s wide blue eyes gazed back up at him.

“Ah, sorry about that!” The boy smiled sheepishly and stepped away. “I was running from that meanie Britain. He’s always telling me I won’t be a country, well what does he know anyways?” The boy pouted, and Finland’s eyebrows knit together. _Oh, this is Sealand._

“Isn’t he your brother?” The man inquired. Instantly, he received a sound “Hmph.”

“He disowned me long ago, but I’m on a mission to prove him wrong for doing that!” His head tilted thoughtfully. “Aren’t you those Scandinavian fellows, Finland,“ -he pointed to the Finn- “and uhh, Sweden?” Finland waved his hand dismissively.

“You can call me Tino and him, Berwald.” He glanced up at his silent companion seeking confirmation to which Sweden gave the slightest nod of his head. “But, you shouldn’t be on your own. Who looks after you?” At this, Sealand puffed out his chest.

“I do! It’s hard sometimes, but I work with what I’ve got.” A silence stretched out between them just then, Finland feeling a powerful urge to do something about that. There was no way, in his good conscious that Finland could let Sealand out by himself like that. It was quiet until an unexpected, deep voice behind him nearly stopped his heart.

“W’fe.” Despite the nickname, Finland promptly responded, encouraging the Swede to continue. It was rare for him to breathe so much as a word in the first place. Sweden’s intense glare firmly trained on Sealand. “W' sh’uld take care ‘f h’m.” His “wife’s” eyebrows shot up. He never said anything unless he was dead serious about it. Did he really feel this resolve so strongly? Finland’s violet eyes met Sealand’s inquisitive blue ones. After only a moment more of consideration, a smile stretched across his features. 

“Peter, would you consider staying with us for a while? We’d love to have someone over.” Sealand blinked rapidly at this offer and looked at them both as if questioning their legitimacy. After a few silent moments, the two Nordics became uneasy. Finland leaned forward slightly in anticipation. If someone wasn’t taking proper care of the boy, he was determined and more than willing to fill that place. Finally, Sealand seemed to have reached a decision. 

“Yes, I think I’d like that.” He excitedly tugged on both of their uniforms, unfazed by Sweden’s intense look. “We’d be like a family, right? You’ll be mama and you’ll be papa!” Finland’s expression changed to one of surprise. _He definitely looked at me when he said “mama”!_

Before he could get too worked up about it though, Sweden let out a slightly audible exhale, and the shorter man was met with a sight he saw only in the rarest of times. The nation’s lips were lifted up into a startlingly effective smile. Not wanting the taller to see his cheeks flush red, Finland averted his gaze and affectionately pushed Sealand’s hair behind his ears. _Oh well, a family DOES sound nice…_


	3. DenNor

“I’m sorry! We wouldn’t normally ask, but we can’t bring him with us.” Finland pleaded once more. He and Sweden were asking Norway and Denmark to look after Sealand while they were gone, but Norway did not like the idea. 

“Sure, we got this! Right, Lukas?” Norway wanted to punch Denmark in the mouth just then. Instead, he stared the Dane down with a blank look. Finland and Sweden quickly made their escape at his answer, and before they knew it, it was just the three of them. Norway crossed his arms.

“Well, since you seem so confident, you can manage by yourself then, can’t you?” His monotone voice jarred Denmark. The tall nation gave a toothy grin.

“You got it, baby!” 

“Oh God, don’t call me that.”

Although Norway wanted to retreat to his room, the male took a seat on the couch with a book in hand. He wasn’t about to leave Denmark alone with a child, and especially not an impressionable young nation. His point was proven no sooner than he had settled in. Denmark squatted down beside Sealand, who stood waiting patiently with hands behind his back. 

“So, you want some beer?” “Norway’s blue eyes bore into Denmark, who suddenly felt a chill crawl up his spine.

“Mathias, if you give that child alcohol I’m going to choke you with your own tie.”

“Ooh, asphyxiation. Kinky.” Norway slapped a palm to his forehead. Placing his book on the coffee table, Norway ushered Sealand away from the Dane and down towards the hallway.

“Since you can’t be trusted, I’ll show him some magic and you sit there and think about what you said.” Although Norway’s voice was stern, Denmark waved to them, stupid smile present as ever.

“Don’t worry, I definitely will!” Merely shaking his head in disappointment, the Norwegian and the boy disappeared deeper into the house. 

***

A loud boom shook the house's very foundation, causing Denmark to fall on his face. Panicked, he searched around and made out two figures emerging from smoke pouring out from the hallway. Norway and Sealand, covered in black… something, and their hair sticking straight back from the blast, blinked down at him.

“What did you do, Lu?!” Denmark scrambled to stand up as he took in the sight. 

“I told him not to touch the spell.” Norway’s empty voice answered. “He touched the spell.” Sealand giggled nervously, letting a small “oops” fall from his lips. The Norwegian eyed him thoughtfully. Something about this reminded him of a time years ago when Iceland had done the exact same thing. Though still irritated at his failed spell, the memory rendered him a forgiving individual. Norway took Sealand’s hand in his. “Let’s get you cleaned up before Berwald comes back and kills both of us.” 

“Okay Uncle Lu.” Sealand skipped beside him, oblivious to Norway’s abnormally warm expression.


	4. GerIta

Their flight would only take a couple hours, but Italy was already bored. Germany sat by the window, reading and leaving the brunet with nothing to do. A little girl accompanied his other side (the parents were stuck two rows behind them) focused on her coloring book and crayons. Italy found himself leaning over to see what she colored with such concentration. 

“Ah, molto bene!” His high and sweet voice captured her attention. Large green eyes met his auburn ones. This time, he spoke directly to her. “It looks very good.” The girl swung her legs happily.

“Do you wanna draw too?” She thrust out her crayon towards him insistently when he looked about to decline. He gave her a small nod and turned to an extra page before starting. He encouraged her to grab another color and draw with him, which she gladly obliged. 

They continued for a while like this, giggling to each other and making games out of their simple drawings. Slowly, they settled down to where Italy began to teach her how to develop her own style instead of only coloring in the lines. 

Meanwhile, Germany’s stern blue gaze locked on to the sight of his partner interacting with a child. For the longest time he figured Italy was too immature to be good with children. Clearly, he’d miscalculated something along the way. At this moment in time, the Italian turned and caught Germany watching.

“Aww Luddy, you’re not jealous because I’m spending time with someone else, are you?” Before Germany could state very openly this was not the case, the brunet had already wrapped his arms around the blond’s waist, nuzzling his head into Germany’s neck. The tall nation tensed, feeling his cheeks reddening with each second under the girl’s curious gaze. 

“F-Feliciano please, have some mercy.” He lightly pushed the smaller male away. Italy pulled back, pouting, but doing as told. The girl’s expression brightened, and she quickly flipped a page of her book and picked up the crayons again. She looked up at them every few seconds and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what she was doing. After about ten minutes of absolute attentiveness, she nodded to herself and ripped the paper out, reaching across Italy to reach the taller man. Bewildered, Germany gently took the paper and gazed down at her picture.

He held a rather well-made (for a girl as young as she looked anyway) image of Italy and himself holding hands with the words “Best Friends” at the bottom. Italy nosily pressed against the man’s shoulder to see, and saying he seemed pleased with what he saw was an understatement. 

“You are just too cute!” He squeaked to the girl whose eyes sparkled at the compliment. “Luddy! Can’t we take her home with us? Pretty pleeeaasee! She’s so precious!” And suddenly the Italian cutely rubbed his head against hers and gave Germany the biggest puppy eyes he’d seen in a while. The girl was not helping, purposefully sticking out a quivering bottom lip at him.

“Nein, Feli! She is someone’s child, not a stray dog.” Both let out a whine of disappointment, but the girl smiled brightly. 

“Aw but you two would be good parents.” After that sentence hit Germany full force, he cleared his throat awkwardly but didn’t have the heart to pull away from Italy this time when he came in for another hug. _I wonder what Feliciano would say if I ever mentioned adoption?_


	5. Spamano

“Antonio.”

“Yes, Lovi?”

“What the fuck are those?” The Spaniard gasped, eyes widening at his partner.

“Lovi, don’t say things like that around kids!” Despite the slightly reprimanding tone, a silly smile adorned his features. “I promised to look after my friend’s niños for the day. I may have forgotten to mention it to you.” The two children, a boy and girl no older than five sat on their living room floor playing with their own toys. Romano eyed them before turning to Spain with his arms crossed, brows furrowed.

“I hope you’re not doubting my capability. I raised you after all!” At this Romano grimaced.

“That… That right there is why I’m doubting you.” He said harshly. Hurt flashed in Spain’s emerald eyes.

“A-are you saying I’m not a good role model?” Aaaaaand now he looked like a kicked puppy. Romano touched his temples and groaned in frustration.

“Oh my God. I meant it as a joke, you idiota.” His tone softened subconsciously, offering reassurance; a quirk Spain would never point out to him lest Romano hide that behind his protective, angry façade as well. The Italian opened his mouth to say something more but stopped short when he felt a light tug on his shirt. Romano’s head tilted down to look fixedly at the girl standing beside him. She reached her arms up silently, making motions to show she wanted to be picked up. Romano reeled back in disbelief.

“Hey, kid, who the ffff-, uh, who do you think I am?“ He drew out the “f”, suddenly self-conscious of his vile vocabulary. The girl didn’t answer, but stubbornly kept her position. After a drawn-out moment, Romano blinked twice, and his usual glare did not falter.

Despite his expression, Romano reached down and lifted the child gently. Without thinking, he set her on his hip and secured her in his arms. Upon hearing a strangled sound, the nation’s head snapped towards Spain. The Spaniard’s green hues were wide in astonishment, hand over his mouth. 

“W-WHAT’S YOUR PROBLEM, ESPAÑA?” He glanced between the girl and his idiot partner.

“It’s just- You did that so naturally. You’d make such a good mother!” Of all the words he could have used. Romano’s face cracked into horror.

“Why am I the mother?!” He meant for an argument to ensue, but Spain didn’t seem to be listening.

“Won’t you have my children, Lovino?” The Spaniard’s hands clasped together as he begged. “We’ll be such good parents!” A bolt of lightening went through Romano’s body, and he covered the girl’s eyes the best he could before mouthing to Spain: _I will fucking kill you._ Spain’s careless laugh rang out sweetly in response.

“Ah, maybe next time then.” The look on Romano’s face told him there wouldn’t be a next time if he so much as breathed one more word about it, but the atmosphere was the same as ever between them. Perhaps on another day, when Spain wasn't just being stupid, Romano would give the idea more serious consideration.


	6. RomHun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing requested by Ghostly_Light.

The Romanian’s eyes roamed around dully. Shopping was fine… for the first two hours, but Hungary insisted she needed something new to wear to Austria’s dinner party and simply could not decide on anything. Noting his growing frustration, Hungary had told him _“This is punishment for sleeping in until 5 in the afternoon, Vladimir darling.”_ He rolled his eyes but knew it couldn’t be helped since he promised to sleep less during the day.

Romania jerked out of his thoughts when a young boy stopped a few feet away from him. He gazed at a dress display excitedly, the colors an array of ocean blue and soft green to ruby red and baby pink.

“Why don’t you go for red?” Romania smirked at the boy with a tilt of his head. “Red is the best.” 

“Says the one who only wears red in the first place.” Hungary nearly startled the life out of him, having come out of the dressing room in a rather stunning emerald green dress. She always did look good in that color. Romania stared for a full three seconds before having the back of his head smacked roughly. 

“Staring at ladies isn’t nice.” Hungary snapped. He rubbed the back of his head.

“In your dreams. I’ve got better things to look at.” He threw back before returning his attention to the boy to hide his mischievous grin. The boy was begging his father to try on the dress he’d picked out. The father shook his head violently and told him to put it back, telling him to stop looking at “those girly clothes”. Before Romania even realized it, Hungary had stepped forward.

“He’s right.” she calmly said, taking the dress from him gently and sifting through the darker colors before yanking a navy blue out, “Those have ruffles, you want something more like this. It matches your eyes.” She smiled sweetly as she handed it to him. Urging him towards the dressing room, the Hungarian then regarded the father in a scolding manner. 

“You should be more open to what makes your child happy.” Her sing-song voice became deeper and more threatening. The father scowled and crossed his arms. He looked about to reply harshly when his eyes swept over the couple, and immediately he blanched, any words on his tongue freezing. Unbeknownst to Hungary, the father’s gaze had looked over her shoulder at Romania, not at her. Glaring blood-red eyes bore into him, silently daring the man to say just one word against his hard-headed lover. 

“Wh-whatever.” He finally mumbled and soon the three of them heard a door open. All eyes were on the boy, who beamed as he happily bounced over to the group to show off the form-fitting outfit. Hungary clapped her hands together and cooed, Romania whistling encouragingly. 

“It’s so pretty! Can I have it? Please?” The father looked him up and down, feeling awkward, but not being able to help the smile that tugged at his lips upon seeing his son’s huge grin. The man agreed. Once the two left, Romania turned to consider again the green dress Hungary still wore. 

“Elizabeta, you do look amazing in that.” He commented, unusually serious. She tilted her face away to hide a dusting of pink on her cheeks. For once, Hungary refrained from threatening to hit him with her frying pan in favor of giving his hand a quick squeeze as her way of acknowledging the compliment. She then quickly made her way back to the dressing room to change out of it. _Oh, I suppose this dingy little thing will have to do._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope I did this couple some justice since I've never written them before.


End file.
